Phantasmagoria, the tales of Hallow's Eve
by ModernElegy
Summary: Now a NEW Halloween treat for my wonderful tricksters ;
1. 1 Phantasmagoria

Phantasmagoria

_A Halloween Oneshot_

It was a dark, rainy night, sometime in late October. For the life of him, he could not recall the exact date as he strolled through his door, shoes muddy, head aching and briefcase full of papers. Sometime near Halloween- rather close in fact- as the porches of the houses all around his were festooned with strings of orange lights and hanging skeletons.

Wishing he didn't have to make his own dinner, he allowed dreams of butlers and other house-helpers guide him foggily into the tiny, dull-hued kitchen. There wasn't much to eat, and he was surprisingly hungry at such a late hour. Coupled with his aggravation (after leaving the school he worked at after the sun had set, followed by a visit to his mother's house, then getting a flat tire) his stomach growled threateningly.

A few slices of roast turkey were still in a Tupperware, as was a helping of mashed potatoes. The idea of the whole cold mess coming out of a microwave was not the most appealing of meals, but beggars can't be choosers- especially when said beggars had yet to go to the supermarket that week.

Thus, the turkey, potatoes and a jar of gravy was promptly heaped onto a place and set in the white appliance above his like-colored stove. His eyes glazed over slightly as he watched the food revolve around itself. He was just so damn tired- it had to be near midnight, or thereabouts. He just couldn't wait to kick his shoes off, settle himself on the couch and catch some late night news before he went to bed.

The piercing _beep_ woke him out of his half reverie, and he collected his meal, along with all the necessary accoutrements and a glass of cranberry juice, and shuffled into his sitting room, where the TV stood, waiting for him like robot. His eyes scanned over his faithful old books, friends that loyally spent night after night on all of the side tables in the house, and he grabbed the remote. But a flash of white caused him to freeze.

He turned his eyes to the easy chair, where he could have sworn a pale white figure had just been hovering. But nothing was there. He slowly placed the food down, his eyes never leaving the spot where the chair was. For a good five minutes, he kept his vision trained sharply, but when nothing reappeared, he sighed with an affected air of someone who'd received a mortal wound to the soul, and went to get the remote again.

That's when he heard it.

"AH-CHOO."

There was no denying that something had sneezed. And unless his mind was finally starting to break down, William Lancer was not alone in his apartment.

"Who's there?" he called out, failing to sound brave, his voice only raising an octave and squeaking in a child-like manner. "Show yourself!"

The white flash was back, hovering half-hidden behind the couch. Lancer advanced upon it, with every intention of beating the thing senseless with his dinner tray. Needless to say, he gave pause when the creature emerged of its own volition.

The first, and only, thing he could think was 'Ghost.' Most people do not usually contemplate other matters when they are, in fact, confronted by a specter, even in Amity Park, when said meetings were frequent. He could never quite get used to the fact that they were solidly, definitely there.

And there it was. With his mussed hair, slender figure, and… a cold?

"Sorry sir, I hadn't meant to startle you," the creature began. Lancer couldn't formulate a reply. "But you see," it continued, "The weather is simply horrid out, and I've caught this ghastly affliction. Is that turkey?"

Lancer searched mutely for his tongue, fumbling around his teeth and exercising the strings of his voice box, but he only managed a rather high-pitched squeak.

"Are you going to eat that?" the ghost inquired conversationally. This struck the teacher. How rude! To barge into one's home and ask for one's dinner right off their plate!

"Why yes," he finally rejoined, "I believe I am. And those are some manners you've got there, to ask that after coming into my home unannounced. What do you think you're doing here?!"

This seemed to affect the little apparition, who nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Gosh, I didn't realize…" his voice faded a little around the edges of his speech. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Sydney, and I'm here because it seems your house was rather overlooked."

"Overlooked?"

"Why, yes! Your specter should have come here months prior."

"My specter?" Lancer was nearly lost for words.

"Of course. The proper protocol requires every house to have a specter! But it's all been messed up, which has thrown my part off as well."

"There are procedures to this sort of thing?" Oddly, Lancer seemed extraordinarily aware of his dinner plate at the moment, how awkward it felt being clutched in his hand.

"Obviously," the ghost seemed to grow a bit haughtier, pushing up his glasses with one confident finger. "It's all clearly laid out in the Cantos."

Lancer knew that should have sounded familiar. Tiny trickles of thought teased the back of his mind, fluttering like a caught scarf in the wind.

"Yes, our Fyve Cantos. I guess I should really explain-" The old grandfather clock chimed the hour in the background, cutting off the ghoul's speech. His eyes widened behind thick frames at the time.

"Midnight already? Gracious! We shall have to save this for another day. Alright, off to bed with you! Go, shoo!"

With a face colored red in annoyance, the teacher found himself stripped of his meal and shoved into the small back room where his bed lay. He protested incoherently, cutting himself off, and generally sputtering. The ghost chuckled.

"Oh relax, turnip-top, someone will be by to explain all the rules to you. I wasn't even supposed to come out at all. Cursed sniffles. Now, off to bed!"

One final propulsion, and the older man found himself face down on the mattress. Springing up to yell at the ghoul for his rudeness, he felt light burning his eyelids, the covers slipping to pool around his waist.

It was morning, he deduced, Saturday morning. So… all that… had been a dream? Blinking, he chuckled to himself, the nagging thoughts from the outskirts of his consciousness accumulating into a stanza of meter.

"Good night, old turnip-top, goodnight!  
When I am gone, perhaps,  
They'll send you some inferior Sprite  
Who'll keep you in a constant light  
and spoil your soundest naps."

He rested his head upon the headboard, and murmered in a distant sort of reply,

"So with a yawn I went my way  
To seek the welcome downy,  
And slept and dreamed till break of day,  
Of Poltergeist and Fetch and Fay,  
And Leprechaun and Brownie!"

He nestled into his covers, ignoring the orange colors outside, and the festive hangings, and all of the commercialized mecca outside his door, wanting instead to sleep a little while longer with the memories of the impetuous ghost, and snatch another swatch of conversation. Perhaps, this time, the little fellow would get around to the real visit. Maybe this time, he would explain…

Sleep curled up around it, laying its tail contentedly upon his head. Had he stayed awake a few minutes longer, he may have noticed a boy perched outside his window, laughter written upon his features, from his green eyes to his dark garments.

He gently lifted off, sparing one last glance, before leaping towards the endless oblivion above colored purple and yellow in the early dawn.

His words trailed on the breezes, twisting and fluttering with the last leaves clinging to the boughs.

"Happy Halloween, Mr. Lancer."

* * *

A/N: Sorry! I know it's late, and I know I've been pretty dead lately, but... I wanted to write a little fun Halloween story that's cheerful instead of miserable. Halloween could use more laughter. It is, historically, a celebration of life, after all. :)

Based on the Lewis Carroll poem of the same name. Go to my dA (link in profile) to read a longer description of the problems I had with this.

Don't own anything, save the idea.

I DID NOT abandon my other stories, least not GWsB. But Junior year is hell right now, and I don't see a light at the end of the tunnel yet. So bear with me, I promise I'll keep writing.

Ciao, Bellas,  
~UA~

* * *


	2. 2 Treating Tricksters

Treating Tricksters

Like earth's rotations around the sun or an IRS audit, it was a simple fact of life that William Lancer was not a man who was easily scared. Whether it was an hour-long infomercial or the latest slasher flick, the man could sit through anything. _Anything_. This ability was crucial for any high school teacher. Especially a high school _senior_ teacher. The simple act of being able to withstand the Gossip Goddess and her chosen beau for forty-five minutes a day, five days a week, was comparable to any superpower ever written about or witnessed.  
It was a longstanding tradition for the students with the pleasure of having Lancer as a teacher to attempt to scare him. So far, none had ever succeeded. From cheap party gags to state-of-the-art sound systems, nothing was good enough. Nothing was shocking enough.

So, when Friday, October 31st rolled around, Lancer brushed aside the cobwebs at the door, flicked the prerequisite spider off his chair, and rolled his eyes at the moaning noise-maker underneath his desk.

"Nice try," he remarked casually to the class at large. A few groans wove among the desks. Some still hoped that their "surprise falling skeletons" or the advanced holographic ghost that would appear at the window might be just the right thing. But the stoic teacher merely opened up to Macbeth and began to lecture about "real witches."

"Dude, I spent four hours on that thing!" Tucker Foley groaned when Lancer didn't even flinch at the banshee rippling into existence beside him. "This is bogus. That man cannot be human. Did your ghost sense ever go off around him, Danny?"

"Not once," the raven haired teen beside the techno-wiz replied. Tucker glanced at his face.

"You look really tired, man. Late night ghost fight?"

Danny laughed. "Not exactly."

"Don't tell me you unlocked the new level of Doomed!" Tucker looked positively aghast.

"You know I can't beat level thirty-one without you."

Tucker still glanced at Danny suspiciously. But he had no idea why his lazy, sleep-loving friend would ever forsake a few z's when it wasn't absolutely necessary. (Heck, he wouldn't forsake them even if it _was_ necessary!)

He waited. Seconds slipped by as ravens 'cawed,' balloons burst, and flour-y sacks dropped from strings on the ceiling. Even the students weren't scared at this point.

"Alright," Tucker finally conceded to his best friend. "Maybe I get why Lancer doesn't freak out. This is getting on my nerves. Did you try anything, Danny?"

Danny flicked an eyebrow up. Then he raised his hand.

Lancer looked at his slacking pupil with the same suspicion Tucker had. "Yes Mr. Fenton?"

"I have something for you," he said simply. Lancer gazed at him bemusedly, searching for yet another Hallow's Eve prank.

Danny returned from his bag, stacks of papers and workbooks slipping from his grasp. He stepped forward, and placed it all on Lancer's desk.

"And what might this be, Mr. Fenton?"

"All the homeworks that I missed."

Lancer froze. The class leaned forward. The educator blinked for a moment, glancing back and forth between all the work and Danny. His hands and face were white.

He fainted.

Danny grinned. He sauntered back to his seat.

The class applauded.

He gave Tucker a pointed look.

"And that is how you do it."

* * *

A/N: See? I LIVE! ~zombie walk~ Yeah, I've been resurrected by some mad scientist. Cool, hunh? He told me that, if I wanted to stay alive, I'd have to finish all my in-progress stories, in order to make up for my crappy Halloween special. Icouldn't help myself. No matter how short or shitty, DP deserves its Halloween story! (It only occurred to me after I finished writing that both are about Lancer. Weird, right?)

So the writing and the ridiculousness continues. I apologize to everyone waiting on GWB or even my Bacanno stuff. New chapters shall arrive!!!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! =D

~me!~


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